"Evelina…"
The wind snatched the name from his lips and carried it to the frosty beyond, where he could hear it again in his ears, from all around.
Time flashed…
"EVELINA!" HE PUSHED through the stream of servants that scurried about carrying supplies, armor, and weapons. She had volunteered to run the servants that catered to the needs of the knights and their lords. When he protested, she told him it was the only way to stay close to him. And like every other time, he relented. Now, at the most crucial time, he could not find her.
He craned his neck and looked over the heads of the milling crowd for a flash of her red-gold hair. He saw nothing and grimaced in frustration. He had to see her before time ran out.
He caught the arm of a servant girl hurrying by. Startled, she nearly dropped the basket of laundry she carried.
"The Lady Evelina, have you seen her?"
She curtsied politely. "She is with the Matron in the infirmary, milord."
"Thank you, miss."
He made his way to the infirmary. Grievously injured men lay in lines of cots attended to by the Matrons, the black-robed healing women in service to Deis.
Marcellus scratched his newly grown beard. There were too many injured, entirely too many in such a short time. Worse, there were many more tents in different encampments with the same situation. The rebel Norlanders were a fierce lot and dedicated to their cause. Theron, their new king, was reportedly fighting more insurgents in the kingdom of Glacia, unable to send men to round up the rebels in Brumar. That left Lucretius no choice but to order a siege on the city for fear of the insurgency spreading further down into his kingdom. The cause was a good one. The results were not on par with the cause.
That was why Marcellus had to find Evelina.
He finally saw her applying bandages to a wounded soldier. Her face was more careworn, her eyes raw from a lack of sleep. He should have made her stay at home with her mother. He knew that every wounded man made her think of him and wonder if one day they would bring him in on a cot, or worse.
When she looked up, a dimpled smile lit up her face, and her eyes brightened. She murmured something to the Matron, who smiled as well. Marcellus nodded gravely to her. Evelina washed her hands with a thick bar of yellow soap before taking him by the arm. She led him outside and threw her arms around him. As he held her tightly, he realized he wanted something more than honor in the field, or another victory under his belt.
He wanted her in his life.
She looked up and laughed delightedly. "I didn't think you would come by today, what a surprise! Matron Shaballa is a wonderful woman. I've learned so much from her. Her eyes are so sad at times. I do not think I could do this all my life, as she has. Dealing with all these wounded, and those who don't make it—" Her expression turned concerned as she caught his eye. "What is it, Marcellus?"
"Captain Gautier was slain yesterday."
Her grip on him tightened. "I'm so sorry. Did you know him well?"
"Not much at all, it seems. Don't you see, Evie? He was the Captain of the Sword. My order. I'm his second. I'm the Captain now. I leave for Brumar tomorrow."
Her eyes widened as the reality of his words sunk in. "Just like that? Don't you have a say in any of this? You can't go, not so quickly—"
Marcellus drew back. "What are you saying — that I should refuse the position? Be known as a coward like my father was? I will never shame myself like that, Evie. I will do my duty and lead my men." The bitterness left, and his voice turned gentle as he stroked her hair. "I wish I had more time, but I don't. Jaslin is coming with me. He will be my second."
He paused. "I had to find you, to say goodbye before I leave. It may be some time before I return. The campaign is to liberate Brumar and drive the rebels back into the mountains."
He took her hand in his. "I shall miss you terribly."
With a choked sob, she tore away from him. He watched in pained silence as the milling crowd quickly swallowed her. He sighed heavily. He knew she would take it badly, but that was unexpected, especially since he had so much he wanted to say. For a moment he stood there like a man lost, then finally made his way back to the tether lines, hoping Shadowdancer had not started fighting any of the other horses yet.
To his surprise, Evelina waited for him there with a leather satchel in her hands. She smiled as she handed it to him.
"I wanted you to have this." He felt something heavy and metallic inside as he accepted it. "I meant it for when they appoint you Knight of the Lance, but now is just as good. I love you, Marcellus Admorran."
Marcellus felt a slightly irritable amusement. "I was supposed to tell you that." He reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew a cunningly crafted ring, gold and silver centered by a single glittering lunestone. Evelina's eyes widened.
"I want you to have this." Marcellus went on before she could speak. "I know my House isn't the most powerful or influential. I may not be able to give you the lands and palace that you deserve. But I can't see my life without you in it. I have to know if—"
"Stop it. Stop it, Marcellus."
To his shock, Evelina closed his fingers back around the ring. "I want you to keep this. I want you to hold on to it, keep it safe for me. Keep yourself safe. Then when you return, you can give it to me. You must promise, Marcellus. Promise me you'll bring it back to me."
He saw the fear in her eyes, the thought of him returning like the men in the tent. Or worse, of him meeting the fate of Captain Gautier. But most of all, he saw the love in her eyes; the undying love he knew was his to come back to.
"I promise. I will bring this back to you."
She stood on her tiptoes, and he met her lips with his own. The world whirled about them for a few glorious seconds before she gently pulled away with a smile on her parted lips.
"Then go. Make me proud. I will wait for you. I will always wait for you." With a last look, she turned and once again lost herself in the crowd. Marcellus stared after her for some time until Shadowdancer's impatient neigh brought him back to reality.
He opened the bag and whistled as he lifted the object out and stared at it.
It was a silver horn.
Time flashed…
MARCELLUS SHUDDERED but refused rise. Dying as close to Evelina and Alexia as he could be was more than he deserved. He looked up but found no solace in the face of the statue. Her eyes bore into his coldly, much like the guilt he felt for the neglect that had led to their deaths.
His trembling hands went to his sword hilt. It jerked and rattled as he forced his stiff fingers to close and pull the weapon out clumsily. As he stared at the glimmering blade, he recalled how easily he had slain so many men. It was only fitting that he meet the same fate.
The hilt vanished in the soft snow as he placed the point against his chest. He closed his eyes. It could all be over. All he had to do was lean forward and put his body's weight on the blade. The suffering, guilt, and pain could finally end. He felt the point prick his flesh, the tiny dot of blood that slowly welled.
Do it. End it now — there's nothing left for you. Do it. Do it!
"No." He swatted the blade away with a sob. Snow fluttered from his head and shoulders as he staggered to his feet, covering his face. "So many people I have slain…but I cannot even slay myself. I am worse than a coward."
"No. The time has not yet arrived for you, Marcellus Admorran."